About Us
by RochelleRene
Summary: A birthday gift for my online BFF: A Huddy wedding fic... HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Z!


**I have this friend – oc7ober aka Z aka Spawn of Satan – and it's her birthday this weekend. Now, she's an interesting chick because she has this outside shell that is tough-as-nails bordering on psychotic. And I love that shell because it makes me laugh harder than I have ever laughed in my life, it reminds me not to get too worked up about anything, and it is never ever boring. But underneath that shell, at the gooey center, the girl coos over babies – even ugly ones – worries about the happiness of her friends, and lives for Huddy fluff.**

**She's kinda my House… intelligently funny and brutally honest and totally authentic and sometimes nasty. But when she loves you, she does it with all of her big-titted guts.**

**So happy birthday, my love. I jammed this full of mushiness and gushiness. Then I drizzled it with sweet sauce.**

**Oc7ober requested a wedding fic, so I did it. I never thought I would but she has this way of cajoling me. I wrote "Out Of Character" – a proposal fic – that might be good to read before this one, but that isn't necessary. I hope you all like it. **

**And Z… I hope you have a happy happy birthday! I love you. You live far away and I never see you, so I wish I didn't. But I can't help it. **

**(Many thanks, too, to gr8fulinsomniac who beta'd the fic and was my trusted advisor on a few lines I was deliberating about…. Had to make it my best work for ya, Z!)**

**[H] [H] [H]**

"No way," House said emphatically as he half-read a book at the kitchen table.

"Really?" Cuddy pleaded, pausing her cooking to offer him a pouty face.

"Come on, woman. That's not me. I can't stand in front of a bunch of people and pour my heart out… I have enough trouble even locating it in private."

Cuddy smiled a little, but he could see her disappointment. "I know," she relented. "I just… I don't know. I just want the wedding to be romantic and heartfelt and perfect. I thought writing our own vows would be a nice touch."

"Romantic, heartfelt and perfect…" House repeated. "And you're sure you want to marry _me?_"

Cuddy's grin bloomed into a wide smile and she walked up to him and sat, straddling his lap, holding his scruffy face in her hands. "Positive," she said.

He smirked at her. "Well, if you change your mind, Wilson will be standing right next to me. He's much better with heartfelt. We could just switch places."

Cuddy wrinkled her nose. "Do I have to sleep with the man I marry?" she asked.

"Traditionally, at least once."

Cuddy nodded with mock seriousness. "Then I'll forgo romantic and heartfelt and perfect for jaded and sarcastic and flawed."

"Wow!" House exclaimed. "My exceptional bedroom skills make up for shitting on your dream wedding and being a general stick-in-the-mud. Nice," he murmured against her neck.

"If romantic enthusiasm doesn't come with blue eyes and stubble, I'll pass."

"Ah-ha!" he exclaimed, pulling his face back to look at her. "So… Wilson and I have a bet. Are you going to make me shave for the big day?"

"Hell no," Cuddy replied immediately. She kissed his forehead before getting up to return to her food preparations. "I like you rough."

"I was talking about my beard," he said, smacking her ass so hard as she walked away that Cuddy yelped. "In that case, we have a hundred more bucks to spend on the honeymoon," he added.

"And you're on that, riiiiiight?" she asked, giving him a warning look. "You have three things to take care of. That's it."

"The honeymoon, the minister, and the rings," he said robotically.

"You only have two weeks left, House."

"I got it covered, Cuddy," he assured her. "Though I still don't know why I got stuck finding a minister."

"Because you gave a long unsolicited soliloquy about the hypocrisy of doing a religious ceremony. So you get to find one of these generic 'celebrants' you claim exist."

"I _know_ they exist. They are called Justices of the Peace."

"Not getting married in a courtroom, House," Cuddy sang as she walked down the hallway to get Rachel for dinner.

"I know, I know," he mumbled under his breath. "Romantic. Heartfelt. Perfect."

**[H] [H] [H]**

A week before the wedding, they were reading on the couch, their legs tangled as they leaned on opposite armrests. Rachel was playing with various stuffed animals and dolls, enacting some sort of complex narrative that only she understood.

"What did you do at school today, Rach?" Cuddy asked as she skimmed her magazine.

"Played with floam," Rachel replied.

"Floam?" Cuddy asked. Rachel nodded. "What's floam?"

"You can squish it… It's… like…floam," Rachel explained. Cuddy furrowed her brow.

"It's borax and glue mixed with polystyrene beads," House mumbled, turning a page. He sensed them both staring at him and looked up. "What?" he asked defensively.

"You know everything," Cuddy commented.

"Well, not _everything_," he said, feigning a modest chuckle. "But most things." He winked at Rachel.

"What did you do today, House?" Rachel asked him.

"You know… Saved lives. Bandaged boo-boos. Other great doctor stuff," he mumbled, still reading.

"A great doctor is accompanied by a great angel," Cuddy murmured in a distracted reply, reading.

House paused his reading again and looked at her. "What?" he asked.

Cuddy's eyes slid to his for a moment. "What, what?"

"That's not… a saying."

"It is!" Cuddy said, starting to laugh.

"A great doctor is accompanied by a great angel?" House asked, to clarify.

Cuddy laughed harder. "Yes!" House looked skeptical. "My parents said it all the time."

"It doesn't make any sense," House complained. "It's probably one of your crazy Jew sayings."

Cuddy was snickering, but trying to look annoyed. "'Jew sayings?'"

"Yeah, you know. The Christians give all the credit to God. _Jesus saves. Praise the Lord. _And the atheists acknowledge the randomness of everything. _It is what it is, _or _As luck would have it. _You Jews can't make up your mind."

"Thank you for that sociology lesson," Cuddy said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Don't mention it," he replied, returning to his book.

After a minute, Cuddy started tittering again. "My dad used to use this saying that came from raising horses: 'You look like you've been ridden hard and put away wet.'" Cuddy dissolved into giggles.

House smiled. "Yeah," he replied, recognizing the saying. "When a horse is all sweaty after exercise." He laughed at the embedded innuendo and at Cuddy cracking up.

"Yeah, well, he'd say it to, like, people who were bustling around," she laughed. "He said it to a waitress at my graduation lunch – 'You look like you've been ridden hard and put away wet.' - and the whole table froze," she explained, miming people holding utensils halfway to their mouths. "The waitress looked at him disgusted." Tears were running down Cuddy's cheeks as she laughed. "And my dad looked baffled about why everyone was shocked."

House laughed with her, but then he saw her smile twist into a small grimace and fresh tears filled her eyes. "Aw, babe." He sat up and pulled her next to him.

"I just miss him," Cuddy said, wiping tears from the edges of her lashes. "I've always dreamed of my wedding. I always thought my dad would see me get married."

House nodded. "I wish I could even pretend to relate to any part of that sentiment," he said apologetically.

She chuckled a little into his shoulder. "It's okay," she mumbled. "Can't always get what you want, right?" She looked up at him and smiled a little. House just silently wiped her cheek with his thumb.

"Why are you crying?" Rachel asked, staring at her mother like a science experiment.

"I'm fine, baby," Cuddy assured her. "I just… I'm just sad some people can't come to the wedding." She was trying to skirt the father issue and the death issue, two things she wasn't prepared to explain to Rachel at this moment… at any moment, she noticed.

"Who can't come?" Rachel asked.

"Oh, my friend," Cuddy said. House gave her a disgusted look.

"Her dad," he told Rachel plainly.

"Who is your dad?"

There was a pause. "You don't remember him, sweetheart. You never met him."

"Why?"

"Well…" Cuddy was fumbling.

"He died before you were born," House said matter-of-factly.

Rachel considered that, staring at them with a tiny furrowed brow. "Why did he die?"

"Everybody dies," House said, and Cuddy elbowed him.

"House," she hissed.

He looked at her. "You think you can keep that a secret, Cuddy?" he asked with a smirk.

"People die when they get very, very old, Rach," Cuddy added.

"Usually," House threw in. Cuddy frowned at him.

"But why?" Rachel asked again.

Cuddy looked slightly panicked, so House decided to just take control of the situation. He leaned forward, closer to Rachel. "Our bodies don't work forever," he said. "They can get sick or hurt and stop working." He watched her nod a little.

"But that doesn't mean getting sick or hurt means someone will die," Cuddy said. "People get sick and hurt all the time and get better."

Rachel nodded again. "But sometimes they don't?"

"Sometimes they don't," they said in unison.

"And your dad didn't get better?" she asked Cuddy.

House saw Cuddy's lips tighten a little. "No, baby. He didn't get better."

"I'm sorry, Mama," Rachel said, and she patted Cuddy's knee lightly.

Cuddy made a sound that was a mixture of a laugh and a sob. "Oh… It's alright. He died a long time ago. I just still miss him sometimes."

Rachel nodded. "I miss House sometimes, when he isn't here," she offered, trying to relate.

This just made Cuddy more emotional. She pulled Rachel into her lap and cried and smiled at the same time, meeting House's eyes that were wide and shifting uncomfortably around the room.

"Yeah, it's kinda like that," Cuddy said softly into Rachel's hair.

"But House will be at the wedding," Rachel said.

Cuddy and House started laughing. "I sure hope so," Cuddy teased.

"Well, if everybody dies, it's good to tell them how much you love them because you might miss them when they get very, very old," Rachel said into Cuddy's neck.

Cuddy smiled weakly at House. He held his hand out and she gently high-fived him.

**[H] [H] [H]**

In the days before the wedding, Cuddy was checking and rechecking lists with maniacal repetition. Every time she walked into House's office he had no idea if it was medically related or wedding related. She came in one morning holding a phonebook-thick clipboard dedicated to wedding plans.

"I just have to ask you one more time," she said. "You're sure I can't convince you to write vows?"

House sat back in his desk chair and sighed, removing his glasses. He tried to consider her point of view, but he just couldn't connect with it. "Cuddy, I don't want these random people peeping in at what we are," he said in his defense. "We're great and we know that. If we have to show people how in love we are, why stop there? Let's just do it on the altar in front of them all, so they can see how hot we are for each other."

"It's not about them," Cuddy said, smiling at the image of that. "It's about… It's just… It's not every day there is this big occasion for expressing to someone how much you love them. And we aren't… You know, we don't do that all that much."

"We do that all the time!" House exclaimed.

Cuddy tilted her head and grinned at him. "I meant with our clothes on," she teased.

"Picky picky."

"I just thought it was a great opportunity to stop and really think about what we mean to each other. To put it into words… what we promise to each other." House studied her. She smiled at him a little. "But I respect that it's hard for you and your too-cool-for-feelings image." She rolled her eyes at him. "I accept that. I'm just bored by the same common vows everyone says."

"We're uncommon," he quoted quietly, musing aloud.

She smiled and shrugged. "Yeah. But it's fine. It's not ruining the wedding for me. And doing it might ruin it for you, so we'll just skip it." She turned to head out the door.

He felt bad. He really did. But the idea of it was just repelling to him. "Are you sure?"

She paused and looked back at him. "I know you don't want this big wedding… the dress, the tux, the people," she said. "I appreciate that you're willing to be a big cliché for me," she said. "I can live with traditional vows."

He studied her. "I want the dress," he said. "I'm excited for the dress."

She smirked at him. "You're excited to see it bunched on the floor, right?" she teased.

He gave her a seductive leer, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the desk. "That, yes. But… I'm excited to marry you, Cuddy."

She smiled. "Then…That's enough." She gave him a little wave and he watched her walk toward the elevator.

"Is it?" he asked the empty room.

**[H] [H] [H]**

The wedding day was a gorgeous autumn Sunday – October 7th – and the sky was bright blue dotted with fluffy clouds. The New Jersey trees were glowing different shades of orange, yellow, and red. House was staring out the window of the campus chapel, sucking a lollipop and waiting until he was instructed to go stand in front of a bunch of people and not scowl. Wilson was sitting in the room with him, shaking his head. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see the day," he mused, watching House in his tux, being antsy.

"So you figured you'd have enough weddings for the both of us?" House snarked.

"The wedding's the best part," Wilson threw back. "It's the living together afterwards that's difficult."

"That sentiment might be precisely why all of your marriages failed," House pointed out.

"Oh, you're offering marital _advice_ now. Cool. But maybe you should get past the altar first." He watched House turn the sucker in his mouth. "You nervous?"

"I don't know," House mused.

Wilson nodded thoughtfully. "She's the one, House."

House looked at him. "Oh, Cuddy? I'm not nervous about _Cuddy_."

"Then what?"

"I just… hope I can give her what she wants."

Wilson studied him. "No one gets exactly what they want in marriage. It's the great bait-and-switch of life. There's a saying that it's like a besieged castle. Everyone outside wants to get in and everyone inside wants to get out."

House smiled, like he had a secret. "Sounds like one of those Jew sayings," he muttered to himself, laughing. Wilson looked at him quizzically and House snapped out of his private joke. "You got it all wrong, idiot. It's like a roadtrip. If you're with someone who smells good in close quarters, likes good music, and who you trust enough to drive while you sleep, you'll have the trip of a lifetime. If not, it'll be torture."

"Hmm," Wilson mused. "Metaphorically, I think I fell asleep at the wheel."

House gave him a skeptical look. "Mmmm, metaphorically, I think you like Lady Gaga."

Wilson narrowed his eyes. "With wife number two, you may be right." He grinned at House.

The wedding planner knocked brusquely on the door before poking her head in. "Showtime!" she said cheerily. House straightened up a little, pulled his hand out of his pocket.

"Well," Wilson said, standing up and clapping House on the back, "Here's to a great trip." He smiled at him and raised his eyebrows. "Ready, big guy?"

House took a big breath. "You don't happen to have any Vicodin, do you?" he asked him with a half grin.

"What do I look like, a doctor?" Wilson replied.

House sighed heavily, grabbing his cane and limping to the door. "Why do I want to make this woman happy?" he groused.

"Because she makes you less unhappy," Wilson quipped to his back.

House stopped. "She makes me happy," he said to the hallway in front of him.

Wilson patted his back again, "I know, House. That's why you want Vicodin," he mused. "Your 'happy muscles' are a little stiff."

They walked ahead and entered the chapel - House gritting his teeth the whole time - and took their positions at the front. House heard an audible gasp ripple conspicuously through a segment of the crowd and he panicked for a second. "Relax," Wilson whispered when he saw House's back stiffen a little. "You clean up good. They're marveling at unrumpled you." House stared at the tiled floor instead of the two hundred fifty guests studying him.

Music started and people began processing down the aisle. Ushers guided his mother and Cuddy's mother to their seats. Julia walked down the aisle in a sleek navy gown and took her place across from House and Wilson. Rachel appeared in a puffy white dress with a wide blue sash, a wreath of flowers pinned in her hair. She threw fistfuls of petals, pelting the ground with them in such a comedic way that House couldn't help laughing a little, which broke the emotional ice for him. And thank goodness because the music changed, the other set of doors at the back opened, and Cuddy appeared. A tiny sound happened in his throat... an almost imperceptible gasp.

She was radiant. She was wearing a dress white enough and puffy enough to toe the line of age-inappropriate, but her exquisite face and perfect figure allowed her to pull it off. She was – in the true spirit of cliché weddings – the most beautiful thing House had ever seen, and he stopped breathing. He actually forgot, for a few moments, about all the other people; there was only her. Everyone was beaming at her and Cuddy smiled demurely as she walked. When she got closer to House she broke into an ear-to-ear beam that he had to bite the inside of his cheek not to return. She took his hand and raised an eyebrow at him. "You came," she whispered.

"Yeah," he whispered back. "But… wanna get outta here?" he asked, giving her an obvious once-over. "I know a place."

Cuddy smirked at him. "I'm glad you like the dress," she teased.

He met her gaze. "You look gorgeous, Cuddy."

She returned the once-over. "You look pretty damn good yourself."

"Wilson tied the bow tie," he confessed.

"I know he's part of the deal," she replied.

The wedding was the usual: Some speeches and readings about love, then the traditional "sickness and health" vows.

"If you ever get healthy…" Cuddy quipped at that point, sending a ripple of laughter through the crowd.

Then the minister said "Do you, Gregory, take Lisa to be your lawfully wedded wife?" House stood silent for a moment, letting the tension build.

"Oh, you're talking to _us_!" he joked, causing the crowd to laugh when they were already smiling about hearing the first names being used. Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"I do," House said, grinning at her.

"Do you, Lisa, take Gregory to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Cuddy beamed at him. "I do." And Wilson was right - House's heart actually ached a little.

**[H] [H] [H]**

The rest was a blur of ring exchanges and "power being vested," but once he was given permission to kiss the bride, House pulled Cuddy around the waist, squishing tulle and silk between them, and leaned her back, kissing her Gone with the Wind style. People hooted and cheered, and then they were walking back down the aisle together. They were directed to a small room for a few minutes, where they made out and teased each other while the guests were seen out. Then they got to walk to the car as people waited outside, throwing rice, blowing bubbles, and cheering. House felt hands on his back and heard people making teasing remarks to him, but all he saw was Cuddy, walking through the throngs of people to the limousine. She shook rice out of her hair before ducking into the dark car. House was right behind her and managed to shut the door before she screamed, startled. He laughed and squeezed her hand. "Relax, Cuddy. He's with me."

Cuddy's hand was pressed against her chest in an effort to slow her racing heart. The small, bald man just sat there with a sheepish grin on his face, obviously in on some sort of Housian ruse.

"House," Cuddy laughed. "I knew you probably had limo plans, but I didn't think they would involve a third person." She was joking with him - sexual innuendo even - though still breathless from the startle... Damn, he loved her.

"This is Jacob, the minister," he told Cuddy.

She looked at him with a smirk, pretending to be onto him, though she was actually buying time to try to put this together. "Ah, I see. As opposed to that fake minister we had inside," she teased.

House grinned and looked to the side.

"House!" Cuddy scolded. "For God's sake, you had three jobs - "

He cut her off. "I know, Cuddy. And I promise, for the rest of my life, to do my best not to let you down." He stared at her.

Cuddy was confused. "So… who was inside?" Cuddy asked.

"A student from the Princeton acting department," House replied. "Kind of a hack if you ask me."

"House, that whole wedding was fake?"

"Yup. And I promise to keep your life interesting and full of surprises," he answered. He grinned, watching her gears turn.

Cuddy slowly smiled, then bit her lip a little, moved. "You wrote vows," she said, meeting his earnest eyes.

"I promise to give you everything you want, even if I give it to you with a little twist."

Cuddy smiled broadly at him. "Aw, you sneaky little softie," she teased quietly. House narrowed his eyes at her briefly in mock chagrin, but soon smiled again. Then he cleared his throat and took both her hands in his.

"I promise to listen to what you are saying, even if I am staring at the television, your breasts, or into space" he told her. Cuddy laughed softly.

"I promise to be a daily reminder that you cannot control everything," he teased, giving her a lopsided grin.

"You've always done that," Cuddy replied.

He paused and let his eyes roam up and down her body for a moment, making Cuddy blush because there was a strange man across from them witnessing all this. Then he quietly growled, "I promise to stay dirty." Cuddy laughed and brought her hands - still clasped in his - to her face, embarrassed.

"I promise to stay clean," he added quietly. Cuddy peeked out at him, his face cast down a little, "And to ask you for help if I can't." Cuddy pulled his hands against her chest and squeezed them.

"I promise to stick with you the way you've always stuck with me – through every horrible thing imaginable." Cuddy sucked in her lips a little, trying to stay composed. Their hands fell to her lap and he let go to take her face in his hands instead.

He looked into her eyes seriously. "I promise to always be myself, but the best version there is."

Cuddy released a shaky breath. "House -" she began, but his thumbs grazed her lips, stopping her thought.

"I promise that I have loved you since I met you, Cuddy, at my best and at my worst. And I promise I will never stop."

Cuddy shook her head a little, overwhelmed. Suddenly the minister interjected in a modest happy voice, reading off of an index card he was holding. "Lisa Cuddy, do you promise to relax a little more each year so that you don't develop ulcers, have a stroke, or grow sexually frigid?"

Cuddy laughed as House slid his hands down her shoulders, then leaned against the seat to just watch her. "I do," she snickered.

"Do you promise to handle workplace name-calling and references to your large ass professionally and not allow such things to affect your personal life?"

Cuddy laughed more. "I do."

"Do you promise to not stop," - the minister cleared his throat a little - "to not stop wearing red underwear or – ahem - 'doing that thing he likes' just because you've got him trapped now?"

Cuddy's laughter dissolved into giggles. She ran a hand over his jaw as he lay against the seat grinning at her. "I do."

"Do you promise to never allow your mother to move into your home?"

Cuddy was laughing so hard now it was silent. "I do."

"Do you promise to continue kicking ass at everything you do?"

She smiled at him. "I do."

"Do you promise to stay hopeful and optimistic in spite of living with personified cynicism?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to love him unconditionally, and accept that he will not be able to handle that because no one has ever done that for him?" Cuddy swallowed the lump in her throat at the same time she saw him swallow his. His eyes slid to look out the back window until she leaned in and pressed her forehead to his.

"I do," she whispered, and his eyes met hers.

They just sat there, staring at each other for a minute. Then the minister cleared his throat gently. "House, do you take Cuddy to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Cuddy laughed at the names and House beamed back at her, proud of himself for making her happy.

"I do," he said, still smiling.

"Cuddy, do you take House to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," she replied. House was pulling her to him then and they were getting lost in each other.

The minister got excited for the exciting part. "Then… By the power vested in me by the state of New Jersey, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may…" but they were already kissing. House reached behind Cuddy and pushed open the limo door.

"Later, preacher man," he said against Cuddy's mouth. The minister quietly crept to the limo door and slunk out, closing the door with a celebratory slam.

House gently pushed Cuddy back into the seat, then moved across the limo and tapped on the closed divider that separated them from the driver. The screen lowered and House told the chauffer to just drive around until they told him otherwise.

"You got it," the driver said, a little too knowingly for Cuddy's taste, but as the screen went back up and House sat across the ample space in the car, lying back into the cushy seat and looking at her with a cocky smirk, she forgot to be bashful about the idea of people knowing what they were up to. She forgot to care about being on time to their own reception. She forgot to worry about her makeup or her dress or her bouquet. She just wanted him.

She eyed him seductively across the space. "I have a surprise for you."

"Don't tell me you have an even tinier minister hidden in here."

Cuddy smiled then and turned around, careful not to topple in her stilettos as the car moved. She hoisted layers of poofiness and mooned House, her ass framed by a bright red sequined thong.

House laughed, then groaned. "Well, aren't you a little whore in bride's clothing."

Cuddy turned back around and sat, grinning mischievously at him. "Hey, I took a vow."

They just smiled at each other for a few moments. Then House held an arm out and Cuddy reached out to take it. He pulled her toward him. The cloud of fabric rustled and bunched, but she managed to straddle him on the seat. She looked down at him, a stray lock of her hair brushing against his cheek. He ran his finger along her cheek.

"I love you, wife."

"I love you, husband."

House nosed her chin back and began kissing her neck. "Don't worry," he murmured against her throat. "I won't mess up your makeup." He nipped down the side of her neck to her shoulder. "Just the rest of you."

Cuddy held his head in her hands and ground her hips down against him. She arched back when she felt him find the zipper at the back of her dress, one hand sliding it slowly down and the other trailing lightly behind to tickle her skin. He stopped at the vee of her thong and hooked a couple fingers under it as his mouth found hers, hovering just a breath away.

"Mess me up," she told him.

He captured her lips in his and slid the bodice of her dress down, revealing a matching red sequined bra. He pulled back to admire her, his chest heaving a little with desire. "It's almost a shame to take it off," he teased as the sequins glittered in the dim light of the car. Then he unhooked the back and the bra fell into the pile of fabric between them. "Almost," he mumbled, staring at her breasts. Cuddy sat up on her knees and pulled him to her, his mouth hungrily meeting her breasts. She writhed on his lap as his tongue flicked over each of her nipples in turn. His arms were wrapped around her, one hand tugging gently at her hair, the other lifting her flesh to his lips. When Cuddy awkwardly got her feet planted for a moment, he helped her tug her dress off and shove it to the side, while she began untying his bow tie. "Do you know how hard Wilson worked on that?" he asked.

"Again, with the Wilson talk during sex," she replied, unbuttoning his shirt.

House laughed. "Come on," he mumbled in her ear, sucking on the lobe. "It's my signature move." He slid his fingers to her panties. "This," he said, snapping the fabric a little, "is nice."

"It's my 'something borrowed,'" she replied. House froze and looked at her, shocked. "I'm kidding, moron. Who else do you know that wears sequined underwear?"

"No one," he agreed. "That's why I had to marry you." He lifted her a little and turned her back to the seat. Then he knelt at her feet and slipped the panties down her thighs, over her calves and heels. He looked up at her face while he ran his palms over the entire length of her legs, her hips. Cuddy stared back at him, her eyes half-closed with lust. He kissed each knee, his eyes still locked on hers. Then he slid his tongue along the inside of one leg until his mouth met her heat, stroking her knowingly with his tongue. Cuddy moaned at the ceiling, bucking her hips up a little to meet his mouth. She felt him dip inside of her, felt his fingertips pushing into her hips and ass. The car was cool and the air slid over her, creating this intoxicating blend of coolness and heat on her skin, on every space his hot mouth left exposed. When he expertly slid his lips to her clit, she couldn't resist crying out his name, though she knew the driver could probably hear her.

The sound of his name rolling off her lips just made him all the more eager to hear her come. He found what she wanted right then and just repeated it, again and again. He felt her movements, heard her sounds, tasted her arousal. He sensed her ascent as her legs stiffened, her back arched, her nails scratched at his hair. She started to moan his name once more but it came out as a gasp that quietly announced her bliss. She was squirming in his hands, wanting to get both closer to and farther away from him. He pushed her along, using his lips and tongue to gently urge her to keep letting go, until it was clear she could take no more. Then he stopped to watch her face recover from brain death.

Cuddy lay sprawled on the seat, a curl plastered to her forehead, her lips slightly swollen, all the lipstick kissed off. He couldn't help thinking that maybe he hadn't messed her up at all… maybe she looked even more beautiful. Her eyes slid open and met his, confirming it. She smiled. "Can't wait to see what you have planned for the wedding _night,_" she slurred.

"Ever seen sequined boxers?" He winked at her.

Cuddy sat forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. She ran the tip of her nose down the bridge of his. She slid her hands down his chest and began opening his tuxedo pants. "I haven't, actually!" she exclaimed. "Lemme see."

"It would be so cool if I actually had those," he teased.

"I actually don't give a crap about your underwear," she said, pulling them over his ass along with his pants.

"That makes two of us," he replied, sliding her down the seat onto the floor and kicking his shoes and pants off to climb on top of her. Cuddy's palms moved under his shirt to caress his back as he slid an arm under her, pulling her up against him while he found her entrance. Cuddy let her head loll back, and he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, tasting her skin, feeling the softness of her against his lips.

He wasn't a sentimental guy, not much into rituals and whatnot. But he couldn't help thinking, holding her there, that they had just promised to be like this forever. And he felt caught up, breathless as he moved inside of her. He felt her legs hook together at his back, holding him close to her. Her thighs rubbed against his hips as he pushed into her. He slid a hand down her body – over her ribs, across her hip, and along the outside of her thigh. He wanted to hold all of her at once in his hand. He wanted to sense what it was like to know her entirely. "You," he whispered into her hair.

Cuddy turned her face to his and saw his eyes clenched shut, his mouth slightly ajar, breathing rapidly with the pace of his thrusts. She put a hand to his stubbled cheek. "You," she echoed before her eyes closed again, her tongue licking her lips.

House's hand at her ass tilted her higher and he was so deep inside her at the moment they both let go, he couldn't feel the border between them anymore. Skin slid against skin, breath mingled with breath, mouths met sloppily, scrambling for tastes. It was chaotic and simple. It was love.

He whimpered a little, descending from his ecstasy and propping on one elbow above her. His other hand was in her hair, absent-mindedly twirling strands of it between his fingers. When he opened his eyes again and took her in, he couldn't help laughing. "You look messed," he observed.

Cuddy chuckled. "Yeah, well, everyone thinks we're just about the sex anyway," she replied.

"We're not?" he teased, skimming a hand lightly over her body.

She craned her neck to lightly kiss his lips. "The sex is about us."

**[H] [H] [H]**

They walked into the ballroom and were greeted with great loud cheers by a crowd of already buzzed guests who were eager to start the party and be voyeurs to one of the most unlikely couplings in their social circle. Even as they walked across the room to their seats, the differences between the two were evident. House cast his eyes downward, glancing about and only looking up to crack a joke quietly to Wilson as they passed. He was happy – thrilled even – but had trained himself to contain such feelings, pushing them into his gut. He was delighted, but he dimmed in the presence of so many. Cuddy, holding his hand, walked across the room like a movie star, beaming and grasping hands of the many guests as she passed. She was happy and it shot out of her like sunshine. She was delighted, and she glowed in the presence of so many.

The reception followed a traditional structure. Initial drinks and hors d'oeuvres began the festivities, and were soon interrupted for toasts.

"Thank you all, for coming to my retirement party," Wilson joked. "It's been a great twenty years managing this man," he continued as people laughed. "But I'm happy to be stepping down and handing him off to someone more capable." House twisted his mouth a little, fighting even the simplest urge to smile. Cuddy reached under the table and put a hand on his thigh as Wilson continued.

"As his best man, I could reveal House's most embarrassing secrets… but he freely shares his offensive thoughts, run-ins with the law, and sexual deviance." More laughter. "I could regale you with tales of our many adventures, proving to you that he is my best friend… but I'm a little embarrassed by that fact." People snickered. "So I'm only left with one thing to say that is at all relevant…"

"House is not what you would call a lovable guy. I don't often hear, _'Oh, Greg House? I just love that guy.'_" People were really rolling now and House looked at the table, both entertained and embarrassed. "However, almost everyone is amused by him, impressed by him, intimidated by him," Wilson explained. "Ironically, Cuddy is none of those things. I have _often_ heard her say _'I'm not amused, House. I'm not impressed, House. Is that supposed to intimidate me, House?_'" The crowd was cracking up at Wilson's impression of Cuddy being tough. "And yet… No one _loves_ House more than Cuddy." An _awwww_ ran through the crowd.

"On the other hand, _everyone_ loves Cuddy… when they aren't calling her a bitch." More snickers. "Cuddy wields the power, so people are either saying '_I love Cuddy!_' or "_Cuddy is such a bitch._'" Again, people were losing it over his impressions. "But House… he's always loved Cuddy." Another _awwww._ "Even when he thinks she's being a bitch." Everyone laughed. "So raise a glass to the world's most perfectly ironic union," he joked. People raised their glasses in the air. "To House and Cuddy," Wilson said.

"To House and Cuddy," everyone said in unison and they drank.

More food and impromptu speeches followed, and then there was their first dance. House made sure he had a nice buzz going by this point so he'd be able to muscle through, both physically and psychologically. They reached the middle of the dance floor and Cuddy put one arm around his neck. House took her other hand and held it close to their chests. He grinned down at her as the music began. "Just think," he said. "In eighteen hours we'll be alone, sipping mojitos on a beach, and you'll have far less fabric on."

She smiled at the notion. "Where are we going?" Cuddy asked. "Will you finally tell me?"

House froze suddenly. "Wait, I thought you were booking the honeymoon…"

Cuddy glared at him. "I'm not amused, House." He smiled and started swaying with her again.

"You'll see," he said. "All you need to know is that it's beautiful, hot, and enhanced with alcohol," he dipped her a little and whispered, "Just like my bride."

Cuddy smiled and leaned into him, her ear on his chest. "I'm so excited to go on this trip with you," she murmured.

House curled over her, inhaling the scent of her hair. He kissed the top of her head. "Me too."


End file.
